Will You Please Just Come Over?
by ehehehehehehehehe
Summary: Set 2 years after the Saviour incident, Dante gets a call from a frantic Kyrie urging him to come to Fortuna as something has happened to Nero. Dante arrives only to find Nero all fine and dandy, minus a Devil Bringer and an additional freeloader staying in the guest room. What in Sparda's name is going on?
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Devil May Cry franchise nor the characters.**_

"Will you please just come over?"

"All right, all right! Jeez don't get your panties in a wad, Kyrie."

"Thank you, Dante. Please hurry."

With that the other line went dead. He roughly replaced the receiver back to its cradle and released an audible sigh, wondering what course of action he should take besides making haste to Nero and Kyrie's place. As much as he's a spur-of-the-moment kind of guy, he knew better than to take things for granted. Dante leaned back on his old, rickety, oak chair, and placed both feet on the table, allowing himself a moment of solace while his eyes trained on the almost-collapsing ceiling fan above him.

Going there all guns and blazing won't do anybody good, but he has fuck clue about the situation and he's quite certain no one else knows what to do either. Oh well, worrying won't make jacksquat of a difference, might as well bring his whole damn arsenal in the events that circumstances get fucked up beyond recognition.

Having made his decision, the red-clad demon hunter abruptly got up from his seat and went about searching for a bag large and inconspicuous enough to fit all his devil arms for the journey to Fortuna.

* * *

Nero woke to the sound of euphonious singing; the voice that has been his ever constant companion since the Saviour incident two years ago. The song was familiar, a melody that he's heard probably a thousand times, if not more, but it never failed to enchant and beguile him. It reminded him of his days serving in The Order with Credo, and that brought a pang of mournfulness in his heart. Though Credo might have aided in the Saviour project, it was Credo who ultimately sacrificed himself to save Kyrie, and Nero couldn't fault the man at all. They were all fools, pawns of his Holiness, or what Nero preferred to call him behind his back, his Cuntness. Whatever. The old fart's probably rotting in the inner sanctum of hell for his bullshit. Bastard got lucky that he died instead of getting stoned or tortured by the towns people, hell if he were alive Nero would rip that beard off his face and shove his Devil Bringer down the old fart's throat and pull out all hi—

"Oh you're awake! I was beginning to worry about you. How are you feeling?"

Kyrie, cheery as ever, walked towards the king-sized bed where Nero was still lying in, her hands holding a tray of assorted food.

"Much better, feel more rested too. How long was I out?"

"About a day I think. You just dropped onto the floor like a log, so I took the liberty of calling Dante. I was so worried about you… Both of you."

Nero gave a nod of acknowledgement, sat up on the bed while Kyrie placed the tray of food in front of him.

"And what about our…"

"I put him in the guest room. He still hasn't stirred, if that's what you're wondering."

The young demon hunter seemed to sense Kyrie's apprehension towards the uninvited guest, but he knew she's too compassionate to kick the unconscious man out, not at least in his condition. The woman was too kind for her own good at times, but that's what made her, well, Kyrie. Nero glanced at the tray of food placed on his lap, and leisurely picked up a fork to eat his meal while Kyrie sat on the corner of the bed, watching Nero attentively, in case he needed help.

* * *

"Are you friggin' serious, old man?"

"C'mon kid, don't tell me it hasn't occurred to you that it might be a possibility."

"No goddamn way. That's just ludicrous. How drunk are you?!"

"Listen punk, as much as I think we have a better chance of seeing the Pope in a strip joint pole-dancing than this shit happening, I am telling you, it's a pretty solid explanation, and if you have a better justification then by all means kid, the floor's yours and I'm all ears."

The old man had a point there. Everything seemed to be leaning towards that direction, but Nero can't help but doubt Dante's theory. As much as Nero wants to believe it, but something in him says otherwise. If there's one thing life has taught Nero, it's knowing that the universe is NEVER as straightforward as it seems. Everything has to be convoluted, filled-to-the-brim with drama, unexpected twists, hardships and tribulations. What Dante suggested was downright…boring, and predictable to say the least. The younger male just stared at Dante, racking his brain to come up with a rebuttal to Dante's naive explanation. The son of Sparda merely had his shit-eating smirk, matching Nero's gaze, as if daring the kid to do better.

The two white-haired demon hunters were sitting in Nero's cozy living room, adorned with knick-knacks from the nearby Fortuna town, and strange, foreign-looking artifacts that was definitely not man-made. It was clear that the room was decorated by two people of differing tastes, but strangely enough the disparity worked harmoniously, creating some sort of chaotic order. Of course this didn't matter to Dante anyways, he did not take a 4-hour train ride, jumped out of a wobbly raft across a river just to get into yet another dingy boat to reach this place to discuss interior design with Nero.

"Okay, how bout this, we wait until he's awake and ask him what the hell does he want and what relation does he have with me. Sound good?"

Nero was at his wits' end, and frankly, he expected Dante to settle this issue since it IS Dante's goddamn problem, not for the giant oaf to come over and spin some Spanish soap opera sob story.

"Kid, how are you so patient? If it were up to me, I'd kick down that damn door and shoot him till he wakes up and ask him the million-dollar-question. I mean for real, aren't you the least bit curious?"

"Of course I am! I just think it's not a good idea to do that. God knows what he's been through and shit, what if he's a basket case and decides to off us all in his mad scramble for reality or something? He's been in my goddamn arm the whole fucking time, Dante. How the fuck would you feel if you had to squeeze your whole goddamn soul into a person's arm? I know I'd be pissed as hell."

As if to prove his point, Nero lifted his right hand, which, for the first time since arriving, Dante realised, was replaced with a pale, normal, human hand.

"You're no fun at all. But in all seriousness, you should think about what I said, because in case you haven't been looking at a mirror lately, you really do look like me when I was younger. Now I'm no geneticist, but I think I know enough biology to tell that we're definitely related one way or another, last I checked I only have a twin, and you're definitely not the product of my promiscuity(which Nero dry-heaved at this) cause I damn well sure that I'm no fool and I wrap my tool before doing the deed, so the only logical explanation would be—

"You're a complete moron and I swear Dante and whoever the hell is talking to my dim-witted brother, if you two do not keep quiet this instant so help me I will go out there, rip out your tongues and vocal chords, slice your writhing bodies paper-thin, and defenestrate what is left of you from this house. You two make enough noise to wake the half-dead!"

Just as sudden the muffled scream fest from the guest room began, the whole house abruptly fell back into silence, leaving both Nero and Dante aghast, their heated discussion long-forgotten. The two sat still like titans bound to a rock, neither dared move lest the sound of moving furniture wakes up the murderous psychopath sleeping in the other room.

But then again this was Dante, and Dante does not take shit from anyone or anything. While the younger male has more common sense than the more-seasoned demon hunter, the younger sibling of said psychopath was undeniably the ballsier one between the two of them. It was obvious to Nero that, Dante may be more experienced, but he certainly wasn't the sharpest sword in Sparda's collection.

As if to prove Nero's point, Dante brusquely got up from where he was sitting and maneuvered his way towards THE room.

This is not good, NOT GOOD at all. Nero shot up from his seat, vaulted over the coffee table and sofa to cut the old man off before the idiot managed to barge into the room.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" The young demon hunter hissed.

"What the hell does it look like? I'm trying to solve our little problem," Dante whispered back.

"Are you actively trying to get us killed? YOU were the one who said your brother nearly killed you when you fought him in Mallet Island and NOW you're just gonna waltz into the room and wake him up when he literally just threatened to slaughter us if we made any more noise?"

The red-clad half-breed stood, as if lost in his own thoughts, his hands crossed in front of his chest, while his left foot was gently tapping the floor. Just as Nero thought he had finally got through the thick skull of the old man, in less than a millisecond Dante's right fist was repeatedly pounding on the door like a woodpecker. Through the incessant pounding, Nero could only think of Kyrie and her reaction when she returns home and find a scene of a massacre. The poor woman would probably spend months cleaning the house and not to mention she'll have to get heavy industrial bleach to scrub off bits and pieces of guts and a shit load of blood. Hell, assuming that there will still be a house to clean.

"That's it, we're dead."

"Jeez kid, can't you be a lil more positive? What happened to the cocky punk I met two years ago? Back then you wouldn't even hesitate to kick a dude's ass, but now you're pussyfooting in your own house. What gives?"

"Well gee, excuse me for valuing my life and avoiding unnecessary confrontation, and let's not forget, SOME of us happen to be human, and some of us will DIE if we get our tongues and vocal chords ripped out, diced and thrown out of a window. Oh, and don't forget I still have Kyrie's safety to think about. How the fuck am I supposed to keep her out of harm's way when I'm no longer…"

Nero trailed off, his eyes held a twinge of sadness, and he lifted his arm once more to show Dante, which was missing a familiar Devil Bringer, a sight that Dante seemed to never be able to get used to.

Dante turned his attention from the door pounding to Nero, still contemplating on his actions, but he reckoned he's already poked the beast with a stick, might as well go big or go home.

"Don't worry kid, I promise you no harm will come to you or Kyrie, I just need to talk to Sleeping Beauty, that's all."

Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan when it comes to Dante because as soon as the younger son of Sparda finished speaking, he found his right fist being held in a VERY TIGHT grip; in fact, so tight that he could have sworn he heard bones cracking, and unfortunately for him, he wasn't wrong, for the receptors in his brain flared to life and Dante felt a shooting pain from his knuckles rocketing to his head.

The older demon hunter nearly gave himself a whiplash from turning his head too quickly to see what was crushing his fist, only to be greeted with a swift, oncoming, pale fist before his vision went dark.

 **Author's Note:** I figured it's time to explore alternative theories besides playing the whole Luke-Skywalker-and-Darth-Vader angle. I get that a dude who worked on DMC4 confirmed the rumour, but to hell with that. Until Capcom comes out and says so, everything's fair game. This story will most probably be either a two-shot or three. Anyways, please feel free to review if you like. Thanks for dropping by~


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Devil May Cry franchise nor the characters.**_

 **WARNING: THIS CONTAINS SPOILER FOR VERGIL'S ENDING CUTSCENE IN DEVIL MAY CRY 4: SPECIAL EDITION. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.**

"You're a real fucking class act, you know that? Is this how you thank people? By punching them in the face and effectively breaking their nose?"

Dante, was splayed across Nero's cramped sofa, nursing a bloody nose, grimacing from the possible concussion, a product of his prick of a brother's roid rage; while Vergil occupied the sofa opposite of Dante, wrapped in nothing but a milk-coloured bedsheet, sipping Jasmine Green Tea from a cup with saucer. The original occupants of the house decided to take a hike and let the two brothers have some privacy, but not without making the Sparda twins swear on their father's grave that the house will be just as it was before Nero and Kyrie left. Naturally, the descendants of the Legendary Dark Knight begrudgingly promised, accompanied by some grumbling from both brothers. The elder twin even went as far as asking Nero if the young man required a blood pact to seal the promise. Asshole.

"Last I recall, dear brother, you did nothing but whine and make inappropriate assumptions on my person. I consider it kindness that I merely broke your nose as opposed to breaking off your dominant arm and slapping you with it for your impertinence. I also haven't forgotten that childish prank you pulled, interrupting my much-needed rest. Have you no sympathy for your older brother's poor health?"

The eldest retorted, placing the cup of tea on the coffee table. Vergil knew today was going to be one hell of a long day, seeing how he has much explaining to do. He was thankful that the young man named Nero offered to allow the two to have a proper family reunion before other matters proceed. Matters such as the loss of a certain someone's Devil Bringer and how he, by "happenstance" appeared out of bum fuck nowhere, unconscious and butt naked, sprawled on the bathroom floor one fine day when said certain someone was going about his morning routine.

"Fuck off, prima donna. You damn near gave Kyrie and the kid a heart attack showing up unannounced like that. The hell do you want from the kid, hmm? You ever thought about how much of a pain the ass you are to everyone around you?"

The younger twin was fuming, all the pent-up rage since Temen-Ni-Gru up to Mallet Island, surfacing like tidal waves of an approaching tsunami, each current mightier, higher, and more destructive, till nothing is left in its path. The demon hunter was tired of making excuses for his brother's action, tired of blaming himself for losing his remaining family member, but most importantly, Dante was tired of fighting with his brother; a brother who has a massive tree trunk shoved in him where the sun doesn't shine, a brother who has liquid nitrogen pumping through his system instead of blood, a power-hungry, megalomaniac who's hell-bent on claiming their father's shitty power. Even though many times Dante felt the need repeatedly shoot Vergil in the dick for being a MASSIVE dick, the more human part of the red devil just yearned for his brother's approval and affection, and Dante felt like he was a child once more, reminiscing the days when the two would play together, simpler times when mother was still alive and they needn't concern themselves with surviving demon attacks.

His usually aloof brother cringed, a minute gesture, but Dante caught it nevertheless. The younger son of Sparda found himself shocked for the first time since a long while, to see the brief hurt and miniscule flinch that Vergil actually displayed. Clearly what he said had hit a nerve or several, with the older twin, and Dante felt bad for making Vergil feel bad. Christ, he just can't win when it comes to Vergil.

The Cerulean devil was silent. He cast his eyes on the coffee table, suddenly finding intense interest in its design. He couldn't mask the sudden onset of emotion, for he was done playing the role of the misunderstood martyr. Granted, his actions during the Temen-Ni-Gru fiasco was genuinely fucked up, but he had his reasons, twisted as they may be, he had hoped that through acquiring the power of Sparda, he could finally avenge the death of his mother and protect Dante from any demon attacks. He knew he deserved the tortures under Mundus, his brainwash and subsequent defeat once more at the hands of his idiotic brother on Mallet Island. He did not expect to be forgiven quickly, if not at all, but he hoped that he would be given the chance to set the records straight.

"I shall not attempt to convey the remorse I feel for my past actions, because simply put, I am not remorseful nor will I ever be. I am well-aware that you, of all people, will never comprehend why I did the things I did, however I will say this: my only regret was failing in my undertakings, and for that, I have paid my dues during a period of my life that I am not keen in divulging. I may have caused immeasurable grievances to humans, including the boy and yourself, but I believe I have served my penance by continuing our father's legacy of protecting the human realm from demon attacks when I could have just rested idly while watching you and the boy's effort go in vain."

Dante laughed. Hard. He couldn't believe what his delusional brother was sprouting. He knew dude's not all there in the head, but this takes the proverbial icing on the cake. HAH! Vergil, 'protecting' humans? The younger twin was used to being called stupid and everything that is synonymous to the word, but even Dante wasn't THAT naïve. The demon hunter took a solid five minutes for his laughing fit to abate before he could speak or breathe.

"God, Verge—ahah, did you hit your head hard on Nero's bathroom floor or something? What gorilla shit are you talking about? I'm sober you know, so however you spin this crap won't even fool me when I'm piss drunk. I'm not completely stupid bro, contrary to what you believe. Why don't you just cut to the chase for once and tell me what I need to hear before I beat it out of you."

"If you would kindly stop your drivel for a moment I would be more than happy to explain!" The blue twin snapped. Vergil's patience was beginning to wear thin. He pinched his nose bridge, eyes snapped shut, trying to delay what he knew would be the inevitable advent of the mother-of-all migraines; he had hoped to at least provide some sort of clarification before he retires for a much-needed rest.

"Okay, Verge. Shoot. Cause if you don't, I will. And I don't mean figuratively,"

The red-clad demon hunter crudely placed his feet on the coffee table between the two of them and crossed his feet, making himself comfortable for the big 'reveal'. Oh man, this was gonna be good!

The other twin only rolled his eyes and shook his head disapprovingly at the immature gesture.

"Did the boy tell you how he managed to repair the Yamato?"

Dante shook his head, and indicated for his brother to go on.

"It was only possible because I aided him in the endeavour. It took a monumental toll on me, which was why I couldn't restore myself to my physical being. I was bidding my time, recuperating, close to finally finish repairing my body, however I sensed the boy in trouble, and I couldn't let my host die, not when I was nearing to completing the task. Besides, Yamato is my birthright, just as Rebellion is yours, I would not, under any circumstance, allow it to fall into unworthy hands."

"Okay, but that still doesn't explain how you ended up a poltergeist and possessed the poor kid's hand."

"I never told you this, but prior to our 'heart-warming family reunion' on top of Temen-Ni-Gru, I encountered Fortuna City and The Order of the Sword while searching for the means to break Temen-Ni-Gru's seals. It was there I found out that The Order had other veiled agendas besides eradicating demons and worshipping our father when I hinted to one of the high-ranking scientist serving in The Order that I may have some relation to Sparda. Unsurprisingly, the man opened himself and his research to me in return for unknown knowledge of Sparda and his power—"

"So it was you who started all this hoo-ha. Man, why do you ALWAYS have to cause shit wherever you go?" The red twin exasperated.

"They would have found out other means to harness demonic powers and bind it to themselves, with or without my contribution, Dante. Arkham was a prime example. I merely showed the scientist some of my abilities, nothing more. It was to earn the trust of The Order, so that I could have a closer look at their activities. When I deemed they weren't threats, I merely left, but not before I formulate a contingency arrangement in the events they became a menace to my plans to acquire our father's power.

I can't say that I fault them in their foolish efforts, might, after all, controls everything. But I did recall vowing they would experience something more than just the power of Sparda; they will encounter something stronger, the power of a son of Sparda. Indubitably, what I said did come to fruition, as their arrangements were thwarted when I decided to lend my power to Nero."

The room was soundless like a vacuum, and neither half-breed seemed to be backing down from the immense tension in the house. The tea had grown cold, long-forgotten, while Dante removed his feet from the coffee table and straightened up.

"So… Nero's really not your son?"

"Wha— Did you not hear a single word I've said to you? All right you half-witted buffoon, I'm going to spell it out for you: I merely 'borrowed' Nero so that I may recover from our little fight on Mallet Island. Is that clear enough for your brain to digest, dear brother?"

Vergil had to restrain himself from summoning his swords and nailing Dante right smack on the wall. In fact, the tired demon slayer actually saw a spot in the house that Dante would fit right in among the kid's strange collections of weird demonic artifacts that he had accumulated.

The younger twin's mouth slackened, wondering whether Vergil's words were gospel truth or utter rubbish. Vergil's account may have crushed Dante's assumptions about Nero, but the mystery behind how Vergil ended up in the punk's hand isn't exactly solved. Dante had every intention of egging his evil twin into spilling the beans, but his brother looked like he was about to keel over and die if the interrogation session were to continue. As if reading Dante's thoughts, the older twin gingerly shifted his body to a sleeping position on the couch, one hand steadfastly gripping on the bedsheets wrapping his body while the other busied itself with rubbing his temple in circular motion, his eyes glued shut.

Dante sighed, seeing the sorry state of his brother made him pity the poor man who just went to hell and back(literally). The younger twin got up from where he was sitting and moved towards the now unconscious brother. As gentle as a mother with her newborn baby, the red half-breed carefully scooped the bundle of epitome of bad news into his arms bridal-style, slowly made his way to the guest room to deposit the sleeping sack of evil onto the bed lest he wakes up cranky and decides to raise hell because his beauty sleep was disrupted.

After making sure that Vergil's room was as light and sound proof as possible, the red-clad demon hunter proceeded to exit the room.

"Welcome back, bro," Dante whispered, before closing the door softly. Mentally exhausted, emotionally drained, the younger son of Sparda sat back down on his seat, and waited for the original occupants of the house to return so he could ask for a beer; Lord knows he needed one.

 **Author's Note: Just finished the game and immediately penned this down because my brain refused to let me sleep until I finished this(I'M SO GLAD MY SUSPICIONS SINCE THE ORIGINAL DMC4 IS CONFIRMED IN THIS GAME). Please do forgive me if the chapter wasn't as well-written, it was about 3am when I began writing this. The next chapter will explain in detail how Nero got his arm. Gah… anyways, I hope you enjoyed the fic, as usual, please feel free to drop a review if you want to. Thank you for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Devil May Cry Franchise nor the characters.**_

Pissed the fuck off was an understatement.

He's beyond pissed. He was livid. He would probably pull a facial muscle from the intense scowl gracing his usual mask of indifference.

GOD he swear it was karma coming back to bite him in the ass.

Dante, who's sitting next to him(Lord Almighty knows he might have caught Dante's stupidity due to the close proximity) simply wore his usual shit-faced grin, hands tightly crossed over his chest, legs spread so wide a goddamn plane could land in between them. Imbecile. Nevermind that, what irked the elder son of Sparda was the fact that one of the red-clad demon hunter's knee was invading Vergil's personal space. Vergil knew the younger twin did it on purpose. Vergil knew Dante was just trying to push his buttons and see how far he would withstand the physical contact before he snaps and pull Dante's leg right off its socket.

The cerulean devil took a deep breath in a futile attempt to keep his temper in check[Nudge]. He's a man of his words and he promised the owners of the house[Nudge] that no damage will be dealt and by fucking golly[Nudge] he's going to keep to his words even if it means having to share the air and space with his mentally-challenged bro[Nudge]— THAT WAS THE LAST STRAW.

Before the elder son of Sparda could register what his hand was doing, a loud 'SMACK' could be heard echoing across the cosy house and unfortunately, though deservingly for Dante, the back of his head felt like someone dropped a piano on it.

"Son of a bitch that fucking hurts! What the hell Verge?"

"If you would cease your childish antics I wouldn't have to resort to violence, brother."

"That's the problem with you, everything pisses you off! Y'know you should really consider getting it checked out—

"Oh for gods' sake will you two just shut up already!"

Nero huffed. The youngest of the demon hunters was pretty much fed up with the same old banter. Since Vergil woke up about a week ago, the Sparda twins have been arguing non-stop like toddlers despite being full-grown adults. Fights always started the same: Dante would do something incredibly stupid, annoying, or both, like rousing Vergil from his rest just for kicks, deliberately sabotaging the elder brother's wardrobe by getting tacky tween boy band T-shirts made of cotton and polyester (launching one of Vergil's lengthy lectures about how it's considered domestic violence by forcing him to wear such shoddy materials), and the mother of nightmares for Vergil, sharing a room with Dante; the latter which solidified Vergil's belief that there is no god in this life or the next.

The young man thanked his lucky stars that for once, the two listened and settled down immediately, Dante placing his stretched out legs on the table and crossing them, freeing Vergil from his contact, while Vergil merely straightened himself in his seat. Kyrie, who's sitting next to Nero, was trying though failing, to stifle her giggles. She would always smile or her giggles will turn into full-blown laughter when the two fought; she genuinely enjoy watching the two man-babies quarrel, a sentiment that not even Nero shared.

"Can we please get back to addressing the elephant in the room here?"

Nero said, pointing his head towards the elder twin.

"Old man, you wanna tell me how in god's name did you end up in my arm in the first place and started this shit-storm? Because I am not above punching elderlies if that's what it takes to get some answers."

Vergil rolled his eyes at Nero's snarky demands. It appears that the youth must have caught whatever bug that his foolish brother has, completely disregarding etiquette and manners, favouring crude insults and bodily harm instead. Has society fallen to such great decay while he was away?

Kyrie was about to say something about Nero's behaviour but stopped when she saw that the elder son of Sparda was not the least offended, hinting to her that the man was very much used to similar unpleasantries, having to put up with a younger brother like Dante.

"The impoliteness was uncalled for, Nero. I am perfectly happy to tell everyone here a rather interesting bedtime story with or without threats directed towards me."

"Oh man, this is gonna be good!"

The red-clad demon hunter remarked, his face full of glee, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Vergil turned and gave his younger brother a look of vexation for interrupting him for the umpteenth time, before deciding to drop the matter altogether. He then turned his attention to Nero.

"Do you remember when you realised your right arm began to change?"

The man in question quirked an eyebrow, remembering the exact incident which triggered the change in his arm.

"I think it was a few years ago, when I was patrolling nearby the Mitis Forest, about a mile away from here. It was kinda weird come to think about it, cause there was a sudden demon infestation there, and let me tell you, it wasn't just one or two demons, there were legions of demons. Nothing like I've seen until, well, the Saviour incident of course."

Kyrie nodded in agreement as Nero recalled the strange occurrence. The fair dame was usually shy and quiet, only speaking when necessary or when spoken to, however she too, was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, and if her experience with Nero in the Forest takes them a step closer to the truth, she's more than happy to sing like a canary.

"We were just talking while I accompanied Nero on his guard duty since he's too stubborn to work with other Holy Knights, and we came across a huge monolith in the midst of a clear field. It was just a dull slab of concrete to us, with strange engravings that none of us were familiar with.

Nero asked me stay behind while he went closer to inspect the structure. I didn't really get a good look of what happened, all I know is when Nero got nearer to the monolith, it started emitting golden tendrils of light and the next thing I knew, hordes of demons were coming out of it, and Nero had his hands full fighting them off."

The young demon hunter took over and continued.

"Just so you know, I didn't touch the damn thing ok? I barely got two feet near it and there were demons coming out in a never-ending conga line. I was so not ready to fight off that many demons while worrying about Kyrie's safety."

The elder son of Sparda was quiet, deep in thought, his gaze seemed lost in a faraway time, and Nero took it as a cue to resume his story.

"To cut the story short, I ended the party early and they got a first-class, no-refund ticket back to hell. We were pretty banged up too, but at least it wasn't too bad. Kyrie had a cut on the forearm from one of the Scarecrows, and one of them Chimera stabbed me in my right shoulder. Hurt like a bitch. Oh, and they wrecked Red Queen so bad she was out of commission for at least a week if I remembered correctly.

But you know what? That wasn't even half of the bullshit I had to go through. From that day forth, my arm changed, and a voice echoed, "Power, give me more power." My arm was never the same again. I was never the same again."

At this comment, the older twin perked up, and his focus returned to the young man sitting directly opposite him.

A knowing smirk grew on Nero's face while he waited for the older man to speak. After a moment's silence, it was broken by a curt answer by the man himself.

"I felt it."

Dante, who was surprisingly attentive throughout the entire time, did a double take.

"Hang on, you what now?"

His relaxed posture disappeared in an instant, no longer lounging like a lazy cat enjoying the sun on a lovely spring afternoon. Dante had no idea what the hell his older brother is talking about. Maybe age has finally caught up with Vergil. Maybe Vergil is no longer Vergil and this man is just a fragment of what he used to be. Dante shot a quizzical look to Nero, wondering if the young man knew what his fruit loop brother was talking about.

The red-clad hunter was disappointed when Nero shrugged his shoulders in reply, proving once again, Vergil may speak the English language, but he may as well be speaking in Yiddish because no one seemed to understand what Vergil meant.

The two glanced back at the elder Sparda twin, patiently waiting in anticipation for Vergil to follow up with an explanation to his earlier statement. But when it was clear that none would come and that the man in question seemed to be immersed in his own world once more, Dante knew his stubborn prick of a brother required more prodding before he would willingly shed some light on the incident.

"Verge, you gotta be a bit more specific and dial back on speaking in riddles, you're not a Sphinx. Now do you mind spilling everything in DETAIL? Stop being such a goddamn tease and just tell us everything already!"

"With pleasure dear brother. In fact, I'm feeling extra generous today, therefore I've decided to go the extra mile by transcribing everything for your kind reference. What font size do you prefer?"

The younger twin raised both arms in defeat, then leaned back onto the couch, and resumed his relaxed posture, while waving a hand at his smart-ass brother to go on.

Vergil shot an irate glare at his younger sibling, to which Dante flipped Vergil the bird in reply.

"I felt it. Helplessness. Desperation. Fear of loss. But above all, one thing took precedence. The need for more power, might. To protect what you love, at any cost, even your life."

The blue devil was looking at Kyrie now, with an intensity that frightened the woman. During his time spent with Nero and herself, Vergil has been nothing short of the perfect gentleman, never really losing his temper, adhering to the ground rules and trying his best not to be a burden. But this side of him… this was something that Kyrie was unfamiliar with.

"I'm sure my brother here has filled you in on how I ended up working for Mundus, and how Dante defeated him and subsequently broke the remaining stronghold Mundus has on my person.

Dante wasn't aware that I had survived our little… altercation. I was alive, but barely back then. After Mundus' defeat, I was finally free from him, and I concentrated on recuperating in order to return to the human world."

He hesitated briefly, as if loss for words, or reluctant to share his experiences in hell.

"I am not above admitting to my faults and foolish actions when I was younger. Having said that, I've accomplished…sort of, what I came here to do in the first place, so I decided to return to the human world."

The younger twin looked at his brother curiously, but said nothing.

"I can't say with certainty how long has passed, as time in the underworld works differently from this world. But I do recall seeing many smaller portals to the human world being opened and disappearing. It seemed as though they were quite unstable, as none of them would last for long. I suspect that may have something to do with the Order of the Sword and their grand scheme, which I learnt about prior to raising Temen-Ni-Gru.

At the point of time, I never considered using such portals to return to the human world because simply put, I was still weak in my current state, and my demon side would recover more rapidly in the underworld as compared to this world. I'm sure you've encountered demons who returned to hell willingly after they're weakened."

Nero nodded in acknowledgment, recalling his experience when he fought Belial and the other demons.

"Imagine my astonishment when one moment I was resting, and then suddenly I felt this overwhelming desperation for power, to protect; like a man at his wits' end, praying to any deity listening for a miracle to happen.

I'm afraid I am far from being a deity, Nero."

The crass youngster could only stare. Shell-shocked beyond belief, here he was thinking that the Dark Slayer was a colossal pain in the backside, when in reality, this man was the sole reason Kyrie is still sitting next to him in one piece instead of buried six feet under. Mother Mary Joseph and Baby Jesus, this was way too fucked up to take it all in one sitting. He did not sign up for this.

"It was the very same hell gate that both you and Kyrie encountered when I felt it, when I saw the multitudes of demons rushing towards the portal in a bid to reach the human world.

Has it not occur to you that despite being injured, quite gravely, if I may add, on the shoulder at the time, yet you fought better than you have in your entire life? Granted, you may have survived the ordeal, though I doubt Kyrie would. There were simply too many demons for you to fight while protecting her from harm's way," Vergil concluded.

"You called me. In your most vulnerable state, you reached out to me, and I felt it all. Physically, I was in no condition to fight, but what little essence of demonic energy I had could very well be the difference between life and death in your case. So I took a gamble and I saw my chance when you were injured; your guard was down, your will was in tatters and you were willing to do whatever it takes to get out of the ordeal alive with Kyrie, and you 'invited' me to reside in you."

The house for once, since the arrival of the Sparda twins, was still for a long period of time. The four occupants digesting what was mentioned, connecting the missing links to form a logical conclusion to the mystery of Nero's Devil Bringer. That is, until Nero piped up.

"B-but why? Why go through all this trouble for me? Oh god, you're my dad aren't you Dante was right isn't he Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick I thought my dad was just an asshole deadbeat but NOPE he was an asshole who tried to raise hell—"

Nero's 'meltdown' was abruptly cut short by the outbursts of laughter from Kyrie and Dante, who were having a hard time breathing while the elder twin huffed incredulously, got up from his seat and began to make his way to the main door of the house. The man has had enough of his younger brother's tomfoolery, and opted for some fresh air.

The youngest demon hunter tailed behind Vergil as he exited the house. Surely Vergil knew Nero was following him, but the former did not seem to mind at all. Nero closed the door behind him and sounds of laughter were muffled to a more tolerable decimal.

The cerulean devil was leaning forward on the wooden patio railing, staring at the kaleidoscopic colours of flowers tended most probably by Kyrie, his back facing the young demon hunter.

"H-hey, listen, I'm sorry about what happened. I just want to know and move on with my life. This thing has been haunting me for years now, I just want some sort of closure. I didn't mean any of the things I said. So…if you are my da—

The older man let out an exasperated sound, and immediately turned to face the boy, which caught him off-guard.

"Nero, for the hundredth time, I. Am. Not. Your. Father. I've never, how shall I put this in terms that'll get through that thick head of yours, 'fucked'(to Nero's amazement and disbelief that Vergil swore) a woman before, even in my inebriated state, which mind you, is rarer than a blue moon.

Really boy, you should consider seeking better companies, as opposed to spending time with my brother, he is an awful influence."

"So why'd you do it?" Nero shot back at the elder Sparda twin.

"You never answered that question. You don't strike me as a 'helping' kind of guy, unless it's helping to send some poor souls to their deaths. Why the sudden change of heart?" The loud-mouthed youngster stepped closer to Vergil, merely a few inches away from the man.

The boy was not prepared when he felt a hand on his right shoulder, and saw that Vergil's usual mask of indifference was strangely absent. Instead it was replaced by a warm, empathetic look of understanding.

"I know what it's like to be powerless, Nero. I can't begin to count the number of instances I cursed at my own helplessness. I could only be a witness to the death of my mother and my brother separated from me at the very same hands of the demons that tormented me when I served Mundus. Even before my descent to hell, I promised myself that I will do all that is necessary to obtain the power to protect the ones I cherish, even if it means hurting them in the process. But I knew if I am able to attain my father's power, I will no longer be the helpless boy who could only stare as demons ravaged, killed and destroyed everything."

Vergil turned his gaze to a nearby window, revealing the two remaining occupants of the house, chatting and having a wonderful time. Dante who moved to sit next to Kyrie, was no doubt flirting with the fair lady, and Kyrie was probably just humouring the seasoned demon hunter.

Nero followed the other man's gaze, and in that moment he understood. The Sparda twins may appear to hate each other, going as far as almost killing each other on multiple occasions while amassing considerable damages to their surroundings in the process, have gone through a tonne of fucked-up shit to last both of them a dozen of lifetimes, but deep inside, the two would move heaven, earth and hell for each other.

"If I could prevent someone from experiencing similar fates…well, let's just say it would help me sleep better."

Vergil gave Nero a gentle pat on the shoulder before opening the front door and entering the house to reunite with a certain red-clad demon hunter who was already hurling childish insults at him.

 **Author's Note: As promised, I've replaced the dumb author's note with the last chapter of the story. I hope you guys will enjoy it! As usual, please feel free to review and point out any mistakes(I suck at editing hurhur). Thank you once again for sticking around and giving the story a shot!**


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